


A New Commandment

by afreezingnote



Series: Thy Part With Me [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 10:30:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afreezingnote/pseuds/afreezingnote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canon divergent after 8.23.  Castiel's first night at the bunker is a restless one, but he is not without company.  Cas thinks about the biblical significance of washing during a shower accompanied by an unexpected intimacy, which may promise more.  Or the one where Cas thinks of himself as unworthy of Dean as Peter did when Jesus washed his feet, but what's really going on proves that attitude faulty.</p>
<p>"They didn’t talk as Dean washed him, and Cas began to think of Jesus washing the disciples’ feet. He thought of Jesus saying to them, “For I have given you an example, that ye should do as I have done to you” and how He meant no one should consider anyone else below them. So cleansing of the body represented equalization as well as the cleansing of the soul. That Dean would touch him in such a way, in an act that showed adoration, overwhelmed him. After everything he had done, how could this righteous man hold him as equal?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Commandment

**Author's Note:**

> Nudity, sensuality, but no sex.
> 
> Thanks to acardcalledhope over on tumblr for being my faithful editor. Cross-posted here: http://balaszafiros.tumblr.com/post/66912734530/a-new-commandment
> 
> I started writing this in August (but got sidetracked by school and a short story with original characters) because of a post I saw on tumblr. The original post that talked about biblical references to washing was reblogged with the wish to see a fic involving the subject matter with Dean/Cas in the tags; however, the person who mentioned the request in their tags has since left that url, so I have been unable to inform them of their inspiring me to write this. So, whoever you are, wherever you are, if you happen to see this, I hope you don't mind that I ran with this idea and that, perhaps, you even like it.
> 
> Also (though if you're reading Supernatural fic I'm not sure this is entirely relevant) this fic unashamedly uses scripture to facilitate a homoerotic scene, so if that offends you, I do apologize and advise you to stop reading now.

 

 

_“If I wash thee not, thou hast no part with me.” John 13:8_

When Cas arrived at the bunker, he could barely stand. He was filthy, but he could hardly care. He just wanted sleep. But sleeping was alarming, a plunge into darkness too much like death for Castiel to feel comfortable simply surrendering to it. So, he tossed and turned fitfully until he decided to rise. He thought he might poke around the kitchen and try to make some coffee. He found Dean sitting with a fresh cup as he shuffled into the library.

"Hello, Dean," Cas said, his voice gruff with exhaustion.

"Hey, Cas."

"Why aren't you asleep?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Dean said, a small grin flitted across his lips. "I've been wired the last few days, worrying about you. Now that you're here... I dunno. It doesn't seem real. I'm afraid if I go to sleep, I'll wake up and realize you were just a dream."

"I believe I'm real, Dean."

"But not certain?"

"There is always some measure of doubt."

A surprised bark of laughter burst out of Dean's chest. "Cas, you gotta be real. Only you would say something like that, and I've never met a hallucination that's been so accurate."

Cas huffed, almost smiling himself—the most positive feeling he'd encountered since realizing the loss of his grace.

"I just made a fresh pot," Dean said, gesturing with his cup. "If you want some."

"That would be nice."

"The cups are in the far cabinet to the right."

Cas nodded and murmured, "Thank you, Dean" before continuing to the kitchen.

When he returned, he sat precariously on the couch cushion alongside Dean. They drank their coffee in a pleasant silence for a while.

Cas shifted. "I feel dirty."

Dean set his cup down.

"That happens," he replied, feeling like anything he could say would be inadequate.

What do you do to console a being who had been so much more than human and lost everything, except for perhaps himself?

"I suppose I need a shower," Cas said.

"I can get you some clean clothes if want?" Dean asked.

Castiel was quiet for a moment before agreeing. "Okay."

"Okay," Dean echoed.

He picked up their empty coffee cups and took them to the sink. Cas trailed listlessly behind him.

"The bathroom is right here," Dean said. "I'll be right back with something for you to change into."

Cas trudged further into the room. It was lined floor to ceiling in neat, uniform tiles of a beige hue. There were a row of sinks along one wall and about a dozen shower stalls in the center of the room. Cas found himself in front of one of the mirrors, peering at what was now his reflection. There were bags under his eyes that he was unaccustomed to and a layer of scruff on his cheeks and chin like there had been when he had returned from Purgatory. He wondered about shaving it, if it would be worth the effort. There would be an endless list of demands from his body now. He felt some trepidation, but mostly he accepted it at face value. He would, as a good friend had always done, muddle through.

He heard Dean enter the room and he turned to meet him, swaying on his feet. Dean set down the bundle of clothing he had carried on a sink and put a steadying hand on Castiel's shoulder.

"You look like you're about to collapse. Are you sure you want to do this now?" Dean asked.

"I'm not eager to go to sleep, Dean," Cas said. "I never liked it much. It's very jarring."

"Okay then. Do you know how everything works?” Dean asked.

Cas scrunched his eyebrows unhappily at his implied lack of understanding.

“I’m not an infant,” he said.

"I know that, Cas," Dean said. "I'm just, you know, uhhh...kind of mother hen-ing you."

Dean ran his hand through his hair and lingered at the nape of his neck, his fingers scratching at the bristles there. It was a self-conscious gesture Cas had never seen before, but he could hazard a guess at the reason.

"You can stay if you want," Cas offered.

Dean, looking studiously at his feet, shook his head as he said, "That's kind of not a thing dudes do. I mean, that's pretty weird, Cas."

Cas pierced him with his most serious gaze. "I don't care about normal."

"I know that too."

"Hmmm," Cas said. He started peeling off his socks. "You want to stay, Dean. Stay."

Dean said nothing else, but he didn't leave either. Cas watched Dean look at the ground for a moment more before he decided silence was acquiescence enough and began shedding the rest of his clothes. He left them in a pile next to the sink Dean stood nearest to. To busy himself with something other than watching Cas walk to a shower stall, Dean picked them up and folded them. He sat them on one sink where Cas's clean clothes rested and boosted himself up to sit on another.

Cas fiddled with the water temperature, testing it with his hands. It went abruptly from cold to hot, and he pulled his hand back with a surprised hiss before reaching around the spray to nudge up the handle for cold. When the temperature adjusted satisfactorily, he stepped under the falling water, letting it drench his hair and run rivulets down his body. It felt renewing, and he understood the symbolism of baptism more directly. He couldn't help a small groan of appreciation. It was remarkably relaxing.

"I never expected this to be so pleasant," Cas said.

He leaned against the shower stall and let the water hit him, allowing his brain to fall into a haze of contentedness. He soon found how difficult it is to break a state of rest. He felt warm and comfortably sluggish. His limbs felt heavy, making the task of lifting them to cleanse himself seem nearly insurmountable, but he managed to shift his weight to his other shoulder before stilling again.

“You okay over there, Cas?” Dean asked.

Cas sighed in response. He said the first thing that came to mind, which was, “I am inertia.”

Something about that struck him as funny, and he chuckled. He couldn’t stop. Though his laughter faded into a silent shaking of his shoulders, he collapsed against the dividing wall for support. The tile was cold on his back, but he could still feel the warmth of the water falling in front of him. Cas liked the senses. As a human, they were saturated in a way he had never experienced before. Even with his eyes closed, he could perceive a change. Something had moved in front of him, near and familiar. He opened his eyes to freckled cheeks and green irises. Dean stood before him, unclothed and close enough that the shower spray caught his right shoulder. Water droplets trailed down Dean’s bicep, and Cas followed them with his gaze until they disappeared behind Dean’s wrist. Cas darted his eyes back up to Dean’s, and a new heat spread in his stomach that felt gripping, light as it was.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said.

A smile bloomed across Dean’s face, showing a flash of white teeth in the part between his lips.

“Hey,” Dean said.

Dean leaned over Cas to pick up a bottle on a ledge to his left. The movement brought their chests centimeters from touching, and the heat in Cas flared. It made him feel a tension between them, which begged for contact, but Cas thought surrendering to the urge would be something Dean would find weird, a thing that dudes don’t do. He held his breath.

“Come here,” Dean said.

Cas tilted his head, unsure.

“Come on,” Dean encouraged, stepping under the shower head.

Cas met him in the middle. A sharp pop echoed across the room as Dean uncapped the lid of the shampoo. He squeezed a measure into his palm.

“Turn around,” Dean instructed softly.

Cas complied and immediately felt Dean’s hand over his head dribbling portions of shampoo in several places. Then Dean sank both hands into Cas’s hair, letting his fingers massage at the scalp and tug tufts into small peaks. He dragged his thumbs down Cas’s neck, pressing in as well as travelling down, before digging into the muscles of his shoulders. Cas groaned in pleasure-pain, reveling in the sensation and the reality of Dean touching him. With the hands on his shoulders, Dean pulled him back to angle his head under the water.

“Close your eyes,” Dean said.

The rinsing took longer than the washing but felt just as good. Dean’s hands fell away from him sooner than he would have liked anyway. But before he could regret the loss, Dean said, “Hand me that other bottle.”

Cas grabbed it and held it over his shoulder. Dean’s fingers brushed his as he took it. The cap of the soap was quieter than the shampoo, but the liquid was much more fragrant. It was like a forest stream. Before the first souls roamed, when there was less gore and sweat, Purgatory could have smelled like this. It suited Dean, so Cas liked it and enjoyed having it rubbed into this skin. As long as the scent lingered, he could remember Dean’s hands on the planes of his body, the way palms brushing over his pectorals made his areolae tense and left his nipples hardened points, the way his sides became ticklish, and the way the place where his lower abdomen met his hips made him gasp. When Dean came to the flesh between his legs, which was partially engorged with blood, Cas was sure he would stop. Certainly Dean would find his arousal abnormal. But Dean didn’t stop. He held Cas at the base in his fist, squeezed slightly more firmly for a moment, and loosened his grip to stroke upward before continuing his path down Cas’s body, all the way to his toes.

They didn’t talk as Dean washed him, and Cas began to think of Jesus washing the disciples’ feet. He thought of Jesus saying to them, “For I have given you an example, that ye should do as I have done to you” and how He meant no one should consider anyone else below them. So cleansing of the body represented equalization as well as the cleansing of the soul. That Dean would touch him in such a way, in an act that showed adoration, overwhelmed him. After everything he had done, how could this righteous man hold him as equal?

The halt of the water drew him out of his contemplation. He and Dean were free of soap suds and dripping. He turned to face Dean again, and the gravity between them was too much. Dean’s appeal was a black hole and Cas was tripping over the event horizon.

“Dean,” Cas said. His voice sounded ragged in his own ears.

Before his brain could caution him, Cas had a hand grasping at the short prickles of Dean’s hair and had Dean’s bottom lip cushioned between his, pressing hotly, asking for entrance. Dean opened for him and settled one hand on Cas’s hip with the other at the nape of his neck. When they drew apart, Cas rested his forehead against Dean’s. They could feel puffs of air on one another’s faces as their breathing slowed to normal. Dean slid his hand to Cas’s jaw and pulled him in for another kiss before tangling their fingers together to lead him to the towels. As they dried each other off in turns, Cas couldn’t stop smiling. He didn’t need Dean to say a word to understand that his desire was returned. After all, Castiel was well versed in symbolism.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from John 13:34, which says, "A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another."
> 
> I'm entertaining thoughts of writing a companion piece to this from Dean's perspective, but I have no idea when I'll have the time.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
